


The Red Favor

by FactoryKat



Series: The Mages' Champion and the Healer's Hope - The Wyatt Hawke Collection [14]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders (Dragon Age) Positive, Boys In Love, Custom Male Hawke (Dragon Age), Established Relationship, Fluff, Happy Anders (Dragon Age), M/M, Named Hawke (Dragon Age), Pre-Dragon Age II - Act 3, Romance, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-27 01:37:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20940149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FactoryKat/pseuds/FactoryKat
Summary: There had to be a reason for every kind gesture, every exceptionally generous action; he wished it didn’t have to be that way, but he would never stop reassuring the man he loved that it was okay to let himself be vulnerable, even for a moment.





	The Red Favor

A roaring silence filled every space of the empty clinic as if the heavy wooden doors were enough to keep out the echoey droning that had become little more than white noise to Wyatt over the weeks and months spent coming down to help Anders. Containing his eagerness for the past few hours had proved to be a practice of patience, but once the final patient had been ushered out, he shut the door and turned back to the clinic proper in a flurry of motions.

Anders had already put his back to the doors and immersed himself in the usual routine of straightening up his station. Glass potion bottles clinked as he returned them to their place, and his long fingers were ever nimble and dextrous as they hung more herbs to dry. It took significant effort to pry his eyes away, but with a twitch in his hands and a giddiness bubbling up within his chest, Wyatt scurried over towards a cot where he had stashed something hours earlier. 

He retrieved a box after a minute spent fishing around. It was hardly more significant than his palm, the parcel. He clutched it between fingertips and forced his nerves to settle. “Anders?” Hopeful - his tone was optimistic and light. Or he thought it was anyway.

With his name called, Anders turned and stared with a mask of neutrality - a common expression usually seen when he was focused. “Yes?”

The residue of crushed elfroot smudged his cheeks and stained his hands, making Wyatt’s heart flutter just for a moment. A pleasant warmth settled in his chest. Damn. Sometimes, there was nothing more attractive to him than seeing his partner in his element - even covered in dirt, filth, and herbs - watching him work never failed to impress Hawke. He approached with a coy smile and liberated the hand towel from Anders’ grasp to gingerly wipe away the mess on his face. 

Amber eyes swept across the box, studying it with much scrutiny. Anders intercepted the washcloth and pushed it aside, too interested in what was within. “What is that?” He asked with newfound interest.

“A gift. For you.”

Golden brows knitted together apprehensively as Anders retracted, staring at him with suspicion and standing rod-straight. No other movements were made to accept this offering or do anything other than making silent judgments. Sometimes, Wyatt had the pressing urge to shake him. He loved Anders, dearly, but there were moments - 

“It’s not going to bite you, Anders. Take it.” 

He snorted as his arms folded together over his chest, stubbornly. “I’m well aware of that. I just don’t understand why. What’s the occasion?”

There had to be a reason for every kind gesture, every exceptionally generous action; he wished it didn’t have to be that way, but he would never stop reassuring the man he loved that it was okay to let himself be vulnerable, even for a moment. “What do you mean, what’s the occasion? Why does there need to be an occasion,” Wyatt asked, with an airy chuckle.

Finally, Anders exhaled as if he had been holding his breath but ultimately relented. Hawke pushed the box into his lover’s hands, who took a seat on an empty cot and pried open the flaps on the delicate parcel. As he pulled out the long, glossy red ribbon, a curious glint reflected in his eyes.

“Hawke?” 

Wyatt slid onto the cot, cozying up next to the man who had won his heart. “For your hair.” He grasped at a few stray wisps, straw gold in the clinic’s minimal light. He admired the way it framed Anders’s angular face and sharp jaw where it hung in loose pieces. It was almost to his shoulders by now. How long had they been together, two years? Going on three? The thought kindled the natural fire in his chest and brought a smile to his face.

They had made it this far...

Lighthearted laughter shook Anders’ lean frame, and he no longer seemed so befuddled by the gift. “I gathered as much, but I assume there is more to it than that?”

“It’s a favor - an Amell tradition. My mother gave one to my father when he began courting her. Her mother did the same, and before that, apparently. Think of it like-”

“A token?”

“Yeah...”

The room fell silent again, blanketing everything in a comfortable hush as the two of them sat there like a pair of lovestruck fools. Hawke tried not to draw attention to the red hue Anders’ cheeks had taken on, especially not when he could feel the heat in his own face. One of them cleared their throat - or both of them - and laughed.

Anders took it upon himself to make the next move by releasing the plain leather wrap holding his ponytail, letting honey-blonde spill down the back of his neck. “I will let you do the honors then.”

Whenever his voice dropped from his throat into his chest, taking on a deep and breathy tone, well - it became increasingly difficult to resist him.


End file.
